“He cannot leave now, madame,” said Mignon. “There is a storm raging outside, and it has been raining very heavily for the past two hours. It will rain the entire night, Guillaume says, and he knows. The king will stay, and in the morning I will serve him eggs poached in cream and marsala!” Bobbing a final cursty to both the king and the lady, she departed from the room.
“It would seem,chèrie, that the fates seek to plead my cause,” said the king softly.
“I cannot send you out into the storm,” Velvet said, “but I would remind Your Majesty of your promise to me to behave like the gentleman that you are.”
Henri laughed. “You are very unfair,chèrie.”
“I did warn you that I am not a flirt,” Velvet protested.
Henri of Navarre sighed dramatically. “If I am to be fair, then I must admit that you did. Still, if I were not to hope that you might change your mind, then I should not be the man I am.”
Velvet could not help but smile. The king was most disarming. “Monseigneur, it is not that you are unattractive, it is just that I value the Gordons’ honor above all else—even the attentions of a king. A man of such great honor as Your Majesty can understand that, I know.”
“I understand it,chèrie,”he admitted to her, “but I do not have to like it. You are an outrageously beautiful woman. I am already wildly in love with you, and you are frank enough to dash my fondest hope with such innocent honesty that I cannot be in the least offended. Disappointed,oui, but not offended.”
“It was never my intention to offend you, sire. I would far prefer that we be friends. I have never had a king for a friend.” Even as she said it, Velvet was somewhat ashamed of the lie, for Akbar had been her friend first before he became her husband and her lover. Still, she knew that she must sweeten her rejection of the king, for it could be that she might need his goodwill one day.
Henri’s gaze softened. “Ah,chèrie,” he said, “what a charming creature you are! Of course we will be friends. I would have it no other way.”
Velvet arose from the table and curtsied to the king. “Will you then give me your permission to retire, monseigneur? I find in my condition that I seem to need more sleep than usual.”
“Will you not show me to my chambers,chèrie?”
“If you are ready to retire, monseigneur, I shall call old Guillaume to escort you,” said Velvet sweetly, and she was gone from the hall before the king could protest.
He watched her skirts disappearing around the corner, and he chuckled. How wise she was to entice him so. An easy quarry was usually unfulfilling and boring to bed. He far more enjoyed the hunt! If not tonight, it would be another night, but he would attempt to breach her defenses one more time this evening. There was a mystery about this beauty, and he was anxious to solve it. Who were these grandparents she spoke of who lived nearby? Where was her husband? He did not believe for one moment that the husband of such a beauty would allow his wife to live alone in such a remote place with only four servants to care for her. It was obvious to Henri that she was trying to hide something, but what he did not know.
The elderly Guillaume came to escort him to his apartment. He was polite and efficient, but the king learned little from him, for the old man was no fool, andla belleGordon was obviously dear to him.
“Yes, sire,” he said, “I once served the Comte de Cher. Not he who is currently the count, but his father who lived to be very old. I was with him from the time I was a young man. I went to court with my master and saw Henri II. We were there the day that he was killed in the tourney. Ah, that was a great tragedy. Both the lady Diane, the king’s favorite, and the queen were terribly overwrought.” Guillaume’s eyes misted with the memory. “The lady Diane de Poitiers was such a beautiful creature.Chenonceauxwas hers in those days, you know, but Queen Catherine took it from her once the king was dead. She gave her another chateau, but the lady Diane retired to her own home at Anet.” He rambled on, and the king found himself quite fascinated by this little bit of France’s recent history as seen through the eyes of a servant.
The king was quite surprised when Guillaume produced a man’s silk nightshirt for him. “Where did this come from?” he demanded.
“It belongs to my master, Madame Velvet’s father. There is a trunk of his things still here as well as one of his wife’s.”
So, thought the king, that was where she had obtained her gown for tonight. He had not mentioned it, but the dress had been somewhat out of fashion, and the aroma of cedar clung faintly to it. “How long has the lady Velvet been here?” he asked Guillaume.
“For several weeks now,” said the manservant, and then he deftly switched the subject back to the old days when he had so loyally served his late master, the Comte de Cher.
The fire was banked, and as his final duty Guillaume tucked the king into bed. Henri said to the valet as he was leaving the room, “Sometimes I have bad dreams, Guillaume, and I cry out in my sleep. I should not like to frighten Madame Gordon in her condition. Is she nearby?”
“Madame’s suite is across the hall, sire,” said Guillaume. “The way the wind is blowing she would not hear you. I wish you, however, a good night’s sleep with happy dreams.”
“Merci, Guillaume,” said the king, smiling, and closed his eyes. He heard the doors close, and then all was quiet but for the sound of the heavy rains against the windowpanes and the low moan of the rising wind. For over an hour the king lay resting, and then he arose from his bed and went directly from his chamber across the hall to Velvet’s door. The floor in the passageway was cold, and he eagerly opened her door to step upon a soft carpet.
Inside the room was the largest bed he had ever seen. It was, to his eye, like an arena. What magnificent combats had taken place in it? he wondered. The velvet draperies were drawn across the windows, muffling the sound of the storm, and the firelight cast eerie, dark shadows upon the fabric. Then he heard it. The soft sound of her weeping. It was the saddest thing Henri had ever heard, and all thought of passion fled from his mind as his compassionate nature came to the forefront. Seating himself upon the edge of the bed, the king drew Velvet into his arms.
Instantly she stiffened, and he heard the outrage in her young voice as she said, “What are you doing in my room, monseigneur?”
“Why are you crying?” he answered her. “It breaks my heart to hear you so saddened,chèrie.What has made you so unhappy?”
She raised a tear-stained face to him, saying as she did so, “I miss my husband, and I miss my home.”
“Then why do you not go home?”
“Because I c—because my health will not allow it,” was her stumbling reply.
“Forgive me,chèrie, but that is a terrible lie,” the king replied. “I have never seen a healthier young woman than yourself. You are running from something,chèrie, and if I can help I will. Can you not trust me?”
